


Cycles

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt Loki, Loki's a goddamn mess, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Self-Indulgent, Temporary Character Death, The Author Regrets Everything, Thor Feels, but really if I'm honest, dead Loki, like deeply and truly fucked up on serious levels, so much about this is unhealthy, some pretty nasty descriptions of death, the Mystery Spot AU, well it's not exactly happy but it's better than the rest of the fic?, what the hell am i doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with Loki's death, and then continues with more of the same. </p>
<p>Or, the one where someone keeps making Thor watch Loki die to prove a point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cycles

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in the works for a long while and is so self-indulgent and tropey on so many levels that I am still deeply, deeply ashamed that it happened. But you will notice that I'm still posting it, so I'm not _that_ ashamed. I forget even where this came from - probably just my love of killing characters that I love/Loki in many fun and inventive ways, and also making Thor sad. Both is good. 
> 
> With thanks to [steelplatedhearts](http://steelplatedhearts.tumblr.com) for beta-reading this one! 
> 
> Have fun, y'all.

It began with Loki’s death.

He and Amora were having their most recent fight in downtown Boston, careless of collateral damage. Amora was screaming at Loki in between blistering spells that made the air boil, and Loki was laughing, flicking them aside and calling a stream of invective, _dear Amora, is that the worst you can do? A hedge witch could manage better-_

Thor meant to take Loki out of the fight, drag him away by the scruff of his neck and let the others deal with Amora, which was why he saw the minute flicker of the air to Loki’s left. He half turned, and Amora, her teeth bared, buried a long, curved blade in his stomach.

Loki’s whole body jerked and his mouth opened in surprise. Thor heard himself shout, desperately, wordlessly, as Amora jerked the blade up and ripped it out in a spray of blood. “You’re not worth my best, Laufeyson,” she spat, and vanished.

Loki fell gracefully, almost in an arc, and hit the ground before Thor reached him.

Thor dropped carelessly to his knees. Loki’s expression was one of mingled surprise and pain, his clothes and the ground beneath him already drenched. The knife had gone deep and done ugly damage and Thor could smell torn bowel. Loki’s eyes focused on Thor slowly.

“Well,” he said, sounding almost amused. “This is embarrassing.”

Thor heard himself make an anguished noise. “Loki,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. He fumbled, pressed his hands over the gash but Loki just gasped in agony and by the blood on his lips he was bleeding inside where Thor couldn’t reach. “Loki,” he said again, “hold on.”

Loki’s eyes half closed. “I always rather…thought it would be you.”

“Me what,” Thor said, desperate to keep him talking, aware, _here._ “Thought what would be me?”

“To kill me,” Loki said, like it was obvious, and let out a shuddery, pained sort of exhale.

He didn’t inhale again.

Thor pulled Loki’s body into his arms and held him, rocking back and forth and feeling like he was choking on his own throat. The third time he’d watched his brother die, and it never got any easier. “Tell me this is a trick,” he whispered. “Please, Loki, tell me…”

Loki’s body was heavy and limp and defiantly real. Thor scarcely noticed his teammates clustering around him as his eyes filled up with tears. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not again-

But he didn’t wake up, and it was Steve Rogers eventually who knelt next to him and touched his arm and said, “Thor…we can’t stay here.”

He was right. Thor knew he was right. Loki…the body…needed to be taken care of. There was the vigil to hold (no) and the rites to perform ( _no_ ) and would he be taken back to Asgard or…

“No,” Thor said, his voice rising, “I _will not_ do this. I will not-”

“Uh, Thor, buddy,” Tony Stark began to say, but he was drowned out by a rumble of thunder.

“I will tear open Hel itself,” Thor said, more to Loki’s body than to his friends. “I will find a spell to bring you back, I will _not allow-_ “

Loki remained still, though, and Thor didn’t know who to ask or where to look for a solution. All he knew was that this state of affairs would not stand.

“I understand,” Steve Rogers said, not moving away, “but Thor, we need to move him. Emergency services needs to clean up, to help people, and for that they need us out of the way.”

In the end, Thor went. He carried Loki’s limp and unresisting body, and laid him out in an empty room in Stark’s tower, because Thor could not bring his brother back to the apartment he shared with Jane. He shut the door firmly but politely on the others, and set to washing Loki’s body, closing his eyes, all the small tasks of preparing a body. He stitched the ugly gash closed and reclothed Loki in a clean shift that was too big for him and the wrong color.

All of this, Thor thought, was wrong.

At least, he tried to tell himself, at least Loki had died a warrior’s death. It was cold comfort.

Thor sat down and bowed his head to wait for dawn.

* * *

It was like the feeling of falling before sleep only to jerk awake at the last second, and when Thor jerked awake, ashamed of his loss of focus during the vigil, he was no longer looking at Loki’s body. It was late afternoon and he was standing with the Avengers in a wooded forest, dressed for battle. Thor stared around, confused and alarmed.

“What?” he said, blankly. Five heads turned to look at him.

“I thought it was pretty clear,” Tony said, a little dryly. “We go in, we beat up the bad guys, we go out. Your kind of plan, right?”

Thor frowned at him. “No,” he said. “I do not mean – I was not here. I was just…” _Loki is dead,_ he almost said, but suddenly he wondered. Had it been a dream, perhaps? But then how had he ended up here? This time Thor’s frown was for himself. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

“No sorcery, I hope,” Clint Barton said, running his fingers over the curve of his bow perhaps a little nervously. None of them were acting as though anything was strange. None of them seemed to think that anything was.

Something very strange was going on here.

Thor decided that to say more might be dangerous, and to hold his tongue. “If you are waiting for me I am more than ready,” Thor said, maybe a little tersely.

They stormed the base with little difficulty, though it was underground, it turned out, which meant Thor could not call the storm as he wished. They battered their way through waves of mortal assailants, which Thor did not mind terribly, and at last came to the center.

The room stank like a slaughterhouse, and Thor might not know why they were here, but he knew the hollowed out corpse splayed on their metal table. Butchered like so much game and already long dead, his throat gaping, bloodless.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Tony said, sounding sick. Thor was frozen, overlapping images, of Amora gutting Loki and now this-

Amora couldn’t have killed Loki because he was already dead. Loki couldn’t be dead here because Amora had already killed him. Loki wasn’t supposed to be dead at all.

Thor took a ginger step forward, his heart in his throat, not understanding. “This is some trick,” he murmured. “What sort of devilry-”

This hadn’t been quick, Thor thought, slowly and reluctantly. This had taken time. Where had he been when Loki’s heart finally gave out? Where-

“No,” he said, in denial, and shook his head hard, as though he could chase all of it away, the room, Loki’s dead eyes staring upwards. “This is not happening.”

“Thor, buddy…” Steve, again, sounding pained, and Thor whirled.

“You do not understand,” he snapped. “Some sort of witchcraft is at work here. I was just – _just –_ somewhere else, and when I blinked I was here. It makes no sense. This is not-” He could smell the blood and offal, thick and cloying. He could still remember the way Loki’s corpse had felt in his arms, heavy and lifeless, and the smell of smoke in the street.

“What are you saying?” The Lady Romanoff asked, her eyes narrowed, and Thor wanted to take another step forward but every time he glanced toward – the _thing_ he could not think of as Loki became a little more real.

“Someone is trying to – I do not know,” Thor said, and then repeated, more vehemently, “ _I do not know._ But I saw Loki die. Before this, and I have no memory of having traveled here with you.” His fingers tightened around Mjolnir’s shaft. He could hear his own words and they made no sense, but none of this made any sense, Loki lying there _dead_ made no sense.

(Loki’s deaths never had.)

“Thor…” The strain in Clint Barton’s voice was clear. “I’m sorry, but none of what you’re saying makes any sense. Do you think – is someone messing with your head?” His tone made it clear who he thought must be, but his glance toward the grisly remains-

Thor gave in to the urge and approached the corpse.

_It’s not Loki,_ his heart insisted, but his mind knew better. It was, or had been. This creature had nothing left of his brother.

Their enemies attacked, then, and it was a relief to lose himself in the rage, to let the fury take him over and leave no room for grief.

It was afterwards, gathering (what was left of) the body, that was hard.

* * *

“Heimdall, open the Bifrost,” Thor said, almost choking on the words, Loki’s body in his arms. His mother would need…would want…

He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and tightened his grip on the shroud-wrapped shell he was bringing home. The Bifrost swept him up, and he hoped Heimdall had already sent for his parents because he did not want to have to walk all the way to the palace alone.

Thor landed and glanced down, but his arms were empty. He was standing on Asgard, Heimdall before him, expression grim, but Loki’s body was gone. “Where is he?” Thor asked blankly – could he have been ripped from Thor’s hold during the travel? Had some magic snatched even Loki’s _remains_ from him?

“The _Stortinget,_ ” Heimdall said, eyes moving from Thor out to the stars. “They waited for your arrival, my prince.”

Thor shook his head. “The – no, I do not mean my father, Heimdall, I mean Loki, I brought Loki here and now he is-” _Gone. Dead._ Thor choked on both words.

“Yes,” Heimdall agreed, gaze returning to Thor though now he looked troubled. “You brought him here, and now your brother has been judged. Are you well, my prince?”

Thor’s mouth felt dry and he shook his head again, but this time to clear it. He _remembered_ the weight of Loki’s body in his arms, blood seeping through the shroud – but he remembered Loki falling as Amora’s blade ripped open his belly, too, and remembered Loki whispering apologies on Svartalfheim. “I will…I will go,” he said, slow and uncertain. Something was going on, some trick was being played on him and he did not understand it, but perhaps if he played along he might find who was toying with him and end their game.

He knew his way to the open court that served as the place of judgment for major crimes. The streets were oddly quiet, he observed as he went, and when he reached the Stortinget he realized why. It was packed with people, throngs upon throngs, more than Thor had ever seen in one place. Nonetheless, they parted at once to let him through.

“Father,” Thor said as he approached the raised dais where his father stood, but both steps and voice faltered as his eyes caught the figure chained and kneeling, black hair shorn to the scalp, and the headsman just a few feet away.

The gears in Thor’s brain ground to a halt. _Impossible,_ he thought. _It is not Loki. It cannot be Loki. Loki is dead, a moment ago I held him-_

But then, as though his brother sensed him, Loki’s head turned and his eyes full of poison and hate glared at Thor, and it _was_ Loki, Thor could _feel_ it. He made himself move, strode to Odin’s side. “Stop this,” he said to his father, lowly. “Something is very wrong. I do not understand how, but-”

Odin glanced at him, and he looked- painfully old. Thor’s voice trailed off. “What can I do,” he said. “Loki forces my hand. Over and over, he goes too far. Asgard has spoken, and she demands that he die.”

“Father,” Thor started to protest.

“Do not make this harder for me,” Odin said, interrupting. “You should not have returned for this.” Loki, apparently listening, let out a shrill, awful laugh. Odin raised a hand, and the headsman stepped forward. “Loki,” Odin said, raising his voice. “Have you anything further to say?”

Loki spat. “The house of Odin will burn,” he said, lips pulled into a sneer. “All of you will-”

Thor jerked forward involuntarily as the axe fell, but Odin’s magic held him frozen. The headsman was skilled; it only took one blow. Thor had to turn away, after, unable to look at his brother’s twitching body, squeezing his eyes closed.

He stayed, though, lingering after the crowd dispersed and the body had been taken away. Odin squeezed his shoulder and Thor shook him off. When he was alone, he made his heavy feet move to  where the sand was sodden with blood. It did not become less real as he looked at it.

Anger rose in Thor’s throat, choking him. “Whoever you are,” he shouted to the sky, fists clenched, “Come and face me! I will not play this game any longer!”

There was no answer. “This is not real,” Thor growled. “This is some magic. It is not real.” He reached down and touched the wet sand, half expecting the illusion to dissipate, but Loki’s blood only stained his fingers.

* * *

Thor fled Asgard. He fled to Midgard, to Jane’s apartment, though when he attempted to explain everything to her he stumbled over the words and she seemed to think he’d had some sort of dream. _It was not a dream,_ he wanted to say. _It was real, all of it was real,_ but that could not be. No living being could die more than once.

Three days later, Loki attacked the Avengers.

Thor received the call while on a walk with Jane, sunk in his own thoughts. “It’s your brother,” Tony said, sounding entirely unsurprised. “Thought you might want to help.”

“That’s impossible,” Thor breathed.

“Why?” Stark sounded waspish on the phone. “He’s the most regular pain in the ass we have. Every three months, on the dot.”

_But Loki is dead,_ Thor thought, and yet his heart was leaping. He’d been right. It had been a trick, all of it had been a trick. “Jane,” he said, turning to her. “I must go. I am sorry.”

“Yeah,” Jane said, “Yeah, sure, fly off and save the world in the middle of our date. I see how it is.” She smiled, though, and Thor leaned down to kiss her forehead before flinging himself into the air.

On seeing Loki, Thor’s heart leapt into his throat. Even though Loki was wreaking havoc with wild, destructive magics, even though his first action when he saw Thor was to fling daggers at him, Thor could not help but feel overwhelming _relief._ This time, Thor told himself, there was no other threat, nothing that would – _hurt_ Loki. They would beat him back and he would slink away defeated, annoyed, perhaps, but not severely damaged. Perhaps it had all been a nightmare, a confusingly vivid one but no more real than any dream.

“Now!” Shouted Stark, and Thor saw an arrow shoot for Loki. He caught it, laughing, and then Stark’s hands rose, something different from the usual energy shooting from his palms.

It hit Loki square in the chest. Thor saw his eyes go wide, his laugh cut off, and thought _no._ He might have said it aloud. He could not be certain through the roaring in his ears. “Oh fuck,” someone said. Thor was not certain who. He was already at Loki’s side, staring at the smoking crater in his chest too big for healing stones to fix. “No,” Thor heard himself say, almost a moan. He felt as though he’d been punched in the gut by a troll.

Fat, heavy drops were starting to fall.

Loki exhaled in a rattle. His eyes moved sluggishly to meet Thor’s, and for a moment it looked like he might say something, but all he said was “Thor,” and then his gaze went dull.

The end. Again.

Thor roared his fury. _Roared_ it. _It’s not real,_ some barely rational part of his brain told him, but he could not hear it¸ or did not care. Even if it was not real, it felt real, real enough that he was being made to watch some form of his brother die over and over again- for _what reason?_ What _point_ could there be to this, except to make Thor suffer?

The anger ebbed away. Was this one of Loki’s games? He wondered suddenly. But that made no sense. Loki claimed he did not believe Thor’s care for him; why, then, seek to make him suffer by striking through that care? Someone else, then – but who?

It did not matter, Thor thought, lowering his head to rest against Loki’s. None of his friends had tried to approach, for which he was grateful. Whoever it was, he would find them. And he would kill them.

* * *

Thor slept. When he awoke, Asgard was burning.

The smoke filled his nostrils. The stench of carrion and blood was thick in the air, and he could almost feel the grit of ash when he opened his mouth. Thor pushed himself up and swayed, touching one hand to his throbbing temple. It came away bloody.

“Thor!” Sif’s familiar voice came as a relief, and Thor turned toward it instinctively to see her wading toward him. “You yet live!”

“What is happening here?” Thor demanded, his head ringing. The last he remembered-

(A makeshift boat burning on a dirty bay, and only Thor to watch Loki make his final journey.)

Sif coughed and covered her nose and mouth with one arm. She was limping, and her armor was dented and smeared with blood. “What do you mean, what is happening? The same thing that has been happening since Loki opened the gates of Hel. We have to stop him, Thor, or he’s going to burn all the Realms to ash.”

“Loki-?” Thor stared, not understanding, and forced moisture back into his mouth. This was but a dream, he reminded himself. Or – no, not a dream, but some illusion. He would not surrender to it. He made himself nod. “Yes, of course. Where is he?” He turned to scan the smoke.

“Right here, brother.” Thor turned just in time to see Loki’s grin before he slashed Sif’s throat open. She dropped, eyes wide with shock, and Thor felt the air leave his lungs. “Siffy led me right to you. I _knew_ she would.”

Thor’s brain moved sluggishly even as his body lunged to catch Sif. She landed heavily in his arms (dead weight), her blood spilling hot over his arms. “Sif!” He cried, even as some corner of his mind insisted _it’s not real._ “Loki, what have you done-”

Loki’s smile widened. It was mad and sharp and gleaming, his eyes black pits, and even as part of Thor rejoiced to see him alive another part recoiled in horror. “I killed her, Thor. As I killed the All-Father. As I killed the Warriors Three not an hour ago. Volstagg begged for his life. I told him I would spare his daughters if he did, you see.” Thor could only stare, horrified, frozen. “Of course,” Loki went on, “I did not.”

“Stop this,” Thor said. Sif’s wide eyes stared up at him. “This is madness.”

“Madness?” Loki’s smile seemed to sprout more teeth. “No, brother. This is the end. Now _fight me._ ”

Thor set Sif down and made himself stand. Loki’s corpse flashed in front of his eyes but now Sif – and Asgard was _burning. This isn’t real,_ he thought again, but there was desperation in it. “Loki,” he began, “please. You do not want-”

“Do not tell me,” Loki hissed, “what I do not want. Do you require more convincing of my sincerity, _Odinson?_ Is that it?” He made a complicated gesture and flung something at Thor’s feet. “There. Let that be the proof of my intentions.”

Thor’s gaze moved slowly, reluctantly. Curling hair, he recognized. Features twisted in pain. Thor’s gorge rose, and with it his rage. Frigga. It was Frigga’s head. “How could you,” he growled, and Mjolnir was in his hand. “How _could_ you-”

“Shall I tell you how she pleaded with me?” The firelight in Loki’s eyes danced eerily. His voice shifted into a cruel mockery. “ _Loki, please! You are my son and we love you-_ ”

Thor’s thoughts went blank. The storm came without thinking and he attacked with a roar, calling rain and thunder and lightning, and Loki laughed and met him. It was not like the fight on the Bifrost, or in New York, or any other battle they had shared over the years. It was savage and brutal, Loki’s daggers slashing at Thor’s hamstrings, Mjolnir brought down hard enough to shatter Loki’s shoulder.

“You can’t win!” Loki cried. “The World Tree groans and cracks. The dead have come to drag the living to Hel. Asgard burns. There is no victory, Odinson! Not for you!”

“And for you?” Thor snarled. “What victory is there for _Laufeyson?_ ”

“I will dance on the ashes of the Nine Realms and _laugh,_ ” Loki said, grinning wide with an unholy glee. One of his daggers sliced deep into Thor’s gut and he doubled over, but only for a moment before rage swept the pain away. Even as Loki darted in for the kill, Thor grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

Loki cried out as it shattered and Thor flung him to the ground, flung him down beside Sif’s corpse and himself atop his once-brother, Mjolnir’s half across his throat. “Stop this!” he roared, desperation leaking in beside the fury. “ _Stop_ this, Loki!”

“I cannot,” Loki said, and smiled, wide and mad. “The die is cast. Even now, Midgard begins to fall.” His fingers twitched and an image appeared, Jane screaming as dead _things_ clawed at her window, Steve Rogers fighting as skeletal hands dragged him down. “There is only one thing that can stop it now.”

“What?” Thor demanded. “ _What will stop it?_ ”

Loki laughed, spraying blood, and grinned even wider. “Can you do it, Thor?” He asked. “ _Will_ you? To save the Nine Realms, will you do it?”

Thor understood in a flash. “No,” he said, his voice rough, hoarse. “ _No._ ”

Loki’s head dropped back and he howled a laugh. “They’ll all die,” he said. “All of them, Thor. And you could save them. But you won’t. Because it would mean killing _me._ ” He leaned up, mad eyes gleaming like the carapace of a beetle. “I win, brother.”

Thor heard a crash; something falling in the fire. Nine Realms. _Do you swear to protect and defend…_ he thought of Sif lying dead with her throat open. His mother’s severed head. Volstagg begging for the lives of his children and this mad thing, this mad thing with his brother’s face.

_It’s not real,_ Thor said, but he closed his eyes and knew what he had to do.

“No,” he said, voice raw. “ _No._ ”

He pulled Mjolnir from Loki’s throat. Loki’s laugh broke off, but he was still smiling. “Oh, Thor,” he said, voice almost rasping. “You won’t. You never will.”

A sob caught in Thor’s chest. “Brother,” he said. “Brother, I am sorry, but I cannot – I cannot let you do this.”

“You already have,” Loki said, expression wild as he strained up toward Thor. “You always will-”

Thor closed his eyes and brought the hammer down. Loki’s body jerked once and went still.

Thor did not open his eyes. He did not want to see the work his hammer had done. He did not want to see Asgard burning or Sif still dead. He did not want-

The first sob was muffled. The ones that followed he did not bother to try.

* * *

Thor blinked and found himself sitting up in bed, Jane snoring quietly next to him and hogging most of the blankets. He squeezed his eyes closed and covered his face. _Just a dream, then,_ he thought, but he could still feel Sif’s hot blood on his hands, still hear the awful sound of Loki’s skull giving way to uru. Not a dream, but not – perhaps not real, either.

Thor almost choked on the tangle of relief and anger. It hadn’t happened, not really, it was just more of this sick _game_ that someone thought to play with him. And why? What _reason_ – did they seek to prove that Loki was beyond saving? To convince Thor…of what?

But no, the other times did not fit with that. It had not been Loki’s fault when Amora had killed him, unless one could say it was his fault for associating with Amora at all. It had not been Loki’s fault when Thor had found him in that bloody basement. But if that was not it –

Then _why_ was this happening? Was it simply to make him suffer?

Thor stumbled out of bed and over to the window, taking several deep breaths and trying to calm himself. Loki had not – Loki had not crossed that line. (Never would, Thor wanted to say, but could he be certain of that any longer?)

It did not matter, Thor told himself. It had not happened. It _would_ not happen. Thor would stop this – whatever this was – and-

He heard a sound from the living room.

Thor froze, turning toward the door to the bedroom. He glanced at Jane, still sleeping, and flexed his empty fist, thinking of Mjolnir hanging by the front door. He tried to walk quietly over to the bedroom door, opening it and stepping out into the main rooms, prepared to summon his hammer at the first sign of a threat.

“Thor,” Loki said. Thor wheeled, raising his hand and calling Mjolnir to slap into his palm, but Loki was leaning against the wall, hunched over and pale. “Brother,” Loki said, and then doubled over with a groan.

Thor wavered, remembering Loki’s mad grin, Sif’s dead body, _Frigga._ But something was – something was _wrong._ Perhaps he had not been considering this correctly. Perhaps he was meant to _keep_ Loki from harm, and Loki did not look well-

His brother was falling, and Thor had a split second to decide. Centuries of instinct took over and he dropped Mjolnir, catching Loki before he hit the ground. He was shaking violently, Thor realized, and when his hand brushed the back of Loki’s neck his skin _burned._

“Loki!” Thor said, alarmed. Loki’s body heaved and he vomited a thin dribble of bile but no more.

“Poisoned,” Loki said through chattering teeth. “I didn’t – I wouldn’t have come to you-”

“Poisoned with what?” Thor asked urgently. Loki’s eyes were glazed and his skin was nearly translucent. “What is the antidote?”

“I do not – _ah!_ ” Loki cried out and curled into himself. “It hurts, it _hurts-_ ”

“Let me help you,” Thor said, an awful deja-vu creeping up in his throat, fear making his heart pound. “Tell me what I can do.”

“Nothing,” Loki said. “There is nothing you can do, only-” He broke off, and Thor shook his head, shook Loki as his eyes closed.

“That cannot be the case,” he said insistently. “That _cannot_ – there must be something. Let me call Heimdall, Asgard will…”

“No,” Loki rasped. Thor could hear the shift in his breathing, strained and thin. “I do not wish – to spend my last moments a prisoner. I came to you because-” He broke off into a whine, retching, but nothing came up.

“No,” Thor said, and then more loudly, “ _No._ ” This was not happening. This could not be happening again.

“Thor,” Loki said, voice thick with pain. “Please. Look at me. I don’t want to – I don’t want to die alone.” Thor looked at him, focused on him. Loki’s eyes were dull and glazed and full of pain. “Please,” Loki said, barely more than a whisper. His body went rigid and he gasped; it took him a moment to regain his voice. “It will not – be quick. I need you – I need you to – give me mercy.”

Thor did not let him finish. “I _refuse,_ ” he said loudly. “You cannot ask me-” ( _Did you not already, just a moment ago?_ ) “If there is time then there is time to save you.”

He lifted Loki, ignoring the way he gasped in pain and seized up in Thor’s arms, striding for the front door. “Thor,” Loki said, his voice weak. “You don’t understand, there is nothing you or anyone can do for me but grant me a swifter-”

“Be silent,” Thor said loudly. “I will not. I would _never._ ” ( _Not quite true,_ his mind reminded him cruelly.) “I will save you, brother. I _swear_ it.” Loki shuddered and went limp. “Heimdall!” Thor roared at the sky, and the Bifrost opened and pulled them both skyward.

When they reached Asgard, Loki was screaming, thrashing in Thor’s arms. He held on tightly, calling a transport that seemed to take forever to arrive. Loki fell still again partway to the palace, shaking and breathing in short, pained little hitches. Thor only released him when they reached Eir, who took one look at Loki and told Thor the same thing Loki had: that there was nothing she could do.

“I can give him something to numb the pain,” she said, and if her bearing was stern her voice was compassionate. “Or…to ease the passing.”

“ _No,_ ” Thor said, perhaps too loudly. “How long-? Perhaps there is some other way…”

“My lord,” Eir said quietly, “it may be as long as a week. It is cruel. Will you force your brother to suffer needlessly?”

“There must be some way,” Thor insisted again. “Some secret power…”

“I am sorry, my Prince,” Eir said, “but there is only one road left for your brother to walk.”

On the cot, Loki sobbed as his muscles spasmed and cramped, his eyes open but unaware.

In the end, Loki lasted five days before his body gave out. Thor was with him when he died, but Loki said nothing, looking straight through Thor as he shuddered once and exhaled his last rattling breath.

“Why?” Thor roared to the empty room, clasping his brother’s hands curled into claws. “ _What is the purpose of this?_ ” Nothing answered him but the echo of his own voice.

* * *

Eir made him sleep. When Thor woke, Loki’s body was gone and no one but him remembered what had happened. He tried to ask, but all it gained him was worried looks and concerned questions about his health.

Thor returned to Midgard in order to ensure they did not lock him into the healing halls. He had no more answers than before. Was he meant to fail? If so, who would make him suffer like this? Who could hate him _so much_ that they would force him to face his worst nightmare not once but over and over again?

Loki would not do so without some aim. Amora did not hate him and while she might be this cruel he did not think she had the ability. Doctor Doom had some magic but not the sort of personal hatred for Thor that was the only conceivable motive he could find.

All his thoughts and he could find no more answer than before.

Some weeks passed and Loki did not die – did not even appear. Thor could take no relief from it, only fear what was coming next. He did not believe this curse he was trapped in was over yet. He did not know how to break it.

Doom – or some of his Bots – attacked a place called New Jersey and Thor took his place among the Avengers to do battle. It was not a difficult battle, but Thor’s heart was not in it, his thoughts distracted, almost waiting for the worst.

It came when he turned to see a Doombot aiming a blast at him. “Now you shall see,” it declaimed, “that Doom has the power to bring down even the Gods themselves!” Thor laughed, the sound a little hollow, and deflected the blow with Mjolnir.

“Come on, then!” He said. “And use your weapons instead of empty words!”

“Thor!” He heard the Captain cry behind him, “get down-”

Thor wheeled, but there was someone between him and an unfamiliar looking Doombot. Thor had a moment to see dark hair and black leather before blue-white light met green magic, slammed through the shield like it was nothing and hit Loki.

It impacted his chest and sank through the skin. His body arched, lit up from the inside, suspended for a moment in the air. Loki – _flashed,_ like something had detonated within him, and dropped like a stone.

Thor heard himself roar and flung Mjolnir, but the strange robot only dodged, powering up to fire again. It would hurt him, Thor was aware – perhaps worse, but in the moment of battle rage he could not care.

Green magic sparked near the thing’s center even as its weapons glowed blue-white in warning. The explosion threw Thor back. He gained his feet again quickly, but the robot was no more than strewn wreckage, Doom’s weapon fired only once.

Once, Thor thought, his rage fading quickly enough to leave him feeling dizzy as he saw Loki crumpled on the ground, was enough. Some part of him felt dull, numb, even as he dropped to his knees beside Loki (again, how many times, _how many times_ ).

And this time Loki had saved his life. Had intercepted a weapon Thor had challenged unthinking with his own body. There was blood streaming from his brother’s eyes and nose, his lips too red.

“Ah, Thor,” Loki said, his voice thick and wet. “You are a fool.”

“Loki,” Thor said, but then had nothing to follow it with. His breath caught in his throat, or he couldn’t breathe. Loki coughed, his whole body spasming. “You should have let me – I could have stopped-”

“No,” Loki said, his voice ragged and thin, barely audible. He smiled and his teeth were red with blood. “No, you _couldn’t_ have.”

Thor shook his head. “That’s not true. If you had let me go-”

“It is true,” Loki interrupted. He sucked in a gurgling breath. “Don’t you… _understand_ yet? You can’t save me, Thor. You can never…save me.”

It hit him like his own lightning, and Thor jerked. His ribs seemed to contract, squeezing his lungs. “It is you,” he said slowly. “It has – all this time, it’s _you_ doing this to me. Making me-” He could feel the anger rising in him. Loki’s lips quirked and Thor wished he could grab him, _shake_ him. “ _Why?_ ”

“Why what,” Loki said, and laughed. A fine spray of blood hit Thor’s face.

_“Why are you making me watch you die?_ ”

“Oh, Thor,” Loki said, his eyelids dropping slowly down. He coughed again, and shuddered. “You’re not…making any sense.”

“No,” Thor said, “no, no, Loki, open your eyes, _look at me._ Tell me why-” But he’d said why, hadn’t he? _You can never save me._ Was that – was _this_ meant to be a _lesson?_ To teach him-

  1. Thor looked down at Loki, to shout at him that he refused to believe it, he _refused_ to give up, he’d let go once and would _never_ do it again, but Loki’s eyes were closed and his face was very still and even as Thor called for him he knew it was over, once again.



_You can’t save me, Thor._

The sound he made was one of rage and pain. He didn’t try to hold it back, didn’t care to. Maybe Loki would hear him. Maybe he would understand-

But Loki was dead (again) and Thor was alone _(again_ ) and there was _nothing he could do._

* * *

No, Thor thought, watching Loki’s body burn and knowing that soon everyone but him would forget this. No, there was something he could do.

Loki might think he was going to prove to Thor that he could not be saved. Loki might believe that if he simply forced Thor to watch him die eventually Thor would give in. Loki should have known better, should have known that Thor did not know how to surrender and never intended to learn.

Loki might be trying to prove something to Thor, but as long as Thor was trapped in this hell he was going to prove something different to Loki.

It occurred to him to wonder if Loki remembered his own deaths the way that Thor did, and the thought left him a little cold. For a moment he almost doubted – perhaps this wasn’t Loki’s doing – but no, Thor thought unhappily, his brother’s madness might stretch far enough that he would do this to himself, if he believed there was a point to be made.

Thor’s fists clenched. “You are the fool, Loki,” he said, “if you think that this will change my mind.”

He would find a way to save Loki. Even from himself.

* * *

Loki did not make it easy.

Thor had known that would be the case. Loki never made _anything_ easy – for himself or for anyone else, and he would not make it simple for Thor to counteract him if he had a point to make. But equally, Thor was as stubborn or more so, and he did not believe in such a thing as a lost cause. He also had years of familiarity with the way Loki’s mind worked – and even if he had missed much in those years, and not understood quite as well as he had believed, still that knowledge was not nothing.

Yet whatever spell Loki had woven them both in did not leave much room for error.

Nonetheless, Thor fought. Doctor Doom brought Loki to a battle, drugged out of his wits, in order to sacrifice him for a spell to rip open the veil between worlds. Thor ripped the knife out of Doom’s hand but the sorcerer clenched his fist and Loki died anyway without so much as a whimper. He was back on Svartalfheim but this time Malekith simply cut Loki’s throat and he bled out into dead soil as the Dark Elf wrenched the Aether from Jane anyway. Loki was executed by SHIELD and Thor arrived only in time to keep his corpse from being pulled apart. Loki cast some sort of spell in the midst of a frantic battle, but his mad laughter died when the casting turned into enormous green serpents that turned on him.

Thor crushed their skulls and sent Mjolnir through two more thick serpentine bodies, but by the time he reached Loki he had already been transfixed by enormous fangs. His eyes fell on Thor and he smiled, blood on his teeth, laughter bubbling in his lungs as Thor crashed to his knees and pressed his hands over the deadly wounds.

“You can stop this,” Thor said urgently. “Loki, you must know this folly will change nothing. I will never accept that I must let you die.”

“I have stopped,” Loki said, smiling at him in a way that made Thor want to pound his fist against the ground. “It’s you that hasn’t learned how.”

When Loki died that time, Thor roared his frustration and punched the ground until his knuckles bled.

He knew his friends thought him mad, or deluded, but Thor shrugged off their concerns and ignored their careful questions. After all – he did not quite believe that they were truly his _real_ friends – some kind of simulacra, imitations of the truth. Whatever the nature of this working Loki had cast – and he was surprised Loki had been able, it must have taken an immense amount of time and power to craft – he and Loki were the only things that stayed the same. The only constant was that Loki always died, and he always had to watch.

How many times would he have to do this? Thor wondered, exhausted and nearly numb, sitting once again in vigil beside Loki’s cooling body. Some villain Thor did not even know had captured Loki, managed to neutralize his magic and carved out his heart, seeking power. How many more times would he have to watch his brother perish, seemingly unable to stop it?

He reached out and rested a hand lightly on Loki’s forehead before standing, squaring his shoulders. Once more, he told himself. Always at least once more.  

Thor did not believe in unwinnable challenges, and he did not believe in surrender.

* * *

Some enormous creature was demolishing Midtown. It was vast and strange, ever shifting. It was all Thor could do not to simply turn his back and seek out Loki – he knew that its presence must have something to do with his brother. Perhaps he thought to master it. Perhaps Loki would try again to force Thor’s hand, as he had in that one awful iteration that still gave Thor nightmares.

“Thor,” he heard behind him, Loki’s voice strained and strange, and Thor whirled, nearly lunged for Loki right then to seize him and shield him with his body. Loki looked thin and haggard and he swayed on his feet. “It’s here for me.” His eyes were fixed on the monster, turning toward them, something like its head swaying as though it scented its quarry.

“For you,” Thor said flatly. He was not surprised. Loki swallowed, his expression flickering between fear and determination. He jerked his head in a nod.

“Yes. I need to-” He took a step forward, and Thor moved, grabbed his arm and tightened his grip to be firm enough that he knew Loki could not pull free.

“No,” Thor said harshly. Loki tugged at it, face twisting.

“You don’t understand, Thor. It’s come from the Void, followed me from there-”

“And you sacrificing yourself will stop it?” Thor said. His voice was harsh and he did not loosen his grip. Loki’s glance at him was plainly surprised.

“—no,” he said, “that is not – I have a plan,” but it was a feeble lie and Thor snorted.

“What good will your death do now?” He asked. Loki was staring at him like he’d gone mad. “It is already here.” His friends were fighting, Thor knew, and that he was not with them…it burned. But they were not real, not really (he told himself). What he needed to do was end this. And to do that…

Loki swallowed again. “If it consumes me…it will collapse. Too much concentrated power for it to contain.” He smiled, but it looked weak and tremulous. “Otherwise – it will just keep going, Thor. Destroying everything on this Realm and the others until it finds me.”

Thor’s mind felt suddenly calm and clear. The exhaustion faded away, and he welcomed the clarity that replaced it, piercing and bright. “You?” Thor asked, “or simply someone powerful enough?”

Loki half opened his mouth and then his eyes widened in understanding. “Thor,” he said, “wait. You can’t-” He tried to tug away again, harder, and Thor released him only to punch him, hard enough to stun and knock him down. He dropped to his knees and removed Mjolnir from his belt, placing it carefully on Loki’s stomach and then straightening.

“Thor,” Loki said, his voice a hiss. “What are you doing. Stop this madness right now.”

“I am,” Thor said. He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck from side to side. “Why are you trying to stop me, Loki?”

“Because this is pointless,” his brother hissed. Thor could see him thrashing and squirming. “You don’t have the power-”

“You have told me many times that I have magic in me and merely lack the focus.” Thor smiled over his shoulder. “I have made my choice, Loki. You cannot argue me out of it.”

“Why are you – this is _insane,_ Thor, think of your woman Jane, think of Asgard. You cannot simply throw your life away on a whim!”

“It is not a whim,” Thor said. The monster was drawing nearer. “If these are my choices, brother – I have decided to save you.”

“You have – _you cannot decide that!_ You cannot think-” Loki’s voice climbed rapidly. “This is not how you save me, Thor! You are a coward, you are a fool!”

Thor began striding forward. “So be it,” he said. “Then I am a fool who is going to save his brother.”

“Thor – _stop! Stop, damn you!_ Listen to me!” Loki was screaming at him now, rage and anguish mingled in his voice. “You can’t _do_ this! You are not allowed to die!” Thor said nothing, curling his hands into fists as the monster drew nearer, his heart starting to pound. “Listen to me, you oaf! Damn you, _damn you-_ ”

“I have made my choice,” Thor repeated. Whatever the creature was, it was bending down, grotesque head splitting open into a maw that held only blackness. Thor summoned a smile like a baring of teeth. He heard Loki scream.

The monster disintegrated. The city disintegrated with it, falling apart like paper in the rain. Thor turned as the concrete turned to grass and the smoke filled air became clear and sunny, and Loki was still there, Mjolnir on his stomach, face contorted with rage and something else, something rawer and more desperate. “You _idiot!_ ” Loki screamed, his eyes wild. “What were you _doing!_ ”

Thor felt his whole body sag with relief. For a moment he had feared – but he had not been wrong. “Saving my brother,” he said simply. Loki’s fist pounding the ground and he _snarled_ like an animal.

“You – _you know nothing!_ You understand _nothing,_ you cannot simply – how could you, how _could you – throw your life away-_ ” His voice rose and kept rising. Thor took a step toward him and called Mjolnir back to his hand. Loki surged to his feet.

“I told you,” Thor said calmly. “I made my choice.”

“ _You cannot make that choice!_ ” Loki screamed at him, his hands balled into fists. “It is not your choice to make, it is not even a _choice,_ you _still do not understand-_ ”

“I understand enough,” Thor said, and took a step toward Loki, but Loki scrambled back.

“No you do not,” he said. “You do _not_ understand, all you have done is prove it. You cannot sacrifice yourself-”

“I will not sacrifice you.” Thor kept his voice even. Implacable.

“And _what if you must?_ ” Loki’s chest was heaving. “There is no other choice! You know that, Thor, you must know it-”

“I know no such thing.” Thor took another step forward and Loki backed up again, his eyes flickering back and forth like he was looking for an escape route. Thor did not give him the chance to find one. “All I have seen is what you have made. All I have seen is what you have tried to force me to believe-”

“ _Because you must,_ ” Loki hissed. “You _have_ to believe it, Thor, you are going to die otherwise, _I am going to be the death of you_ and I cannot, I will not watch you _throw your life away for mine!_ ”

“Is that not what you are trying to do to me?” Thor said. He could hear his voice rising and tried to control it.

“My life is not yours!” Loki shouted. “It is not the same-”

“ _It is to me,_ ” Thor said. Loki stared at him, eyes wide. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, clearly torn between fleeing and – Thor was not certain what else he might do. He braced himself for anything.

He was not prepared for Loki to drop to his knees and scream at him. “ _You were going to die!_ ” he screamed. “You were going to – if I hadn’t ended the spell – _damn you, Thor, damn you-_ “

Thor stumbled forward and dropped to his knees before Loki. Loki flung himself at Thor like he was going to attack but though his fist his Thor’s shoulder it was weak at best. He did not fight when Thor pulled him in and held him, rocking slightly forward and back. He could feel Loki’s body heaving, sounds somewhere between screams and sobs bursting from his lungs, and Thor held on, tears wet on his own cheeks.

“You have to let me go,” Loki said, his voice cracking, breaking. “You have to let me _die._ ”

“Never,” Thor said, tightening his hold and gripping Loki’s clothes like he could keep him from slipping away. “ _Never._ ”


End file.
